


Internal Affairs

by QuarticMoose



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: CCPD, Canon Gay Character, Don't Panic!, Eddie has a whiteboard, Gen, How to Cope with Sudden Spatial Displacement, Identity Reveal, Metahumans, Singh POV, Singh is Really Very Patient, aka what to do as a cop living in a city with a speedster, eventually, metahuman rights, no really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarticMoose/pseuds/QuarticMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When David Singh accepted a captaincy at CCPD, he swore he would do right by his men. A sudden influx of meta-humans and impossible phenomena does nothing to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Memo

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Inertia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593169) by [QuarticMoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarticMoose/pseuds/QuarticMoose). 



> The Singh stories stopped being stand-alone one-shots, so I thought I'd collect them together to make them more accessible/easier to read. 
> 
> Now with new, never-before-seen content!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CCPD issues its official policy re:The Flash. On an unrelated note, Singh and Barry have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (takes place after 1x19, Who Is Harrison Wells?)
> 
> A reminder that the word "meta-human" doesn't see widespread use outside of Team Flash until season 2, and that the CCPD has actually had very limited exposure to meta-humans up until this point. (more notes on CCPD's awareness or lack of awareness of meta-humans at the end)
> 
> This chapter starts out Barry POV before switching to Singh...

 

Barry was in the middle of analyzing the gas chromatography results for a recent drug case (there was a peak on the graph he was almost positive was an aldehyde, but he needed to cross-reference the NMR to be sure), when Joe grabbed him by the elbow and steered him from the lab, with a curt "Seminar, now."

Barry stumbled to keep his balance, "Joe, I got that memo; it's for first responders, and I'm just a lab rat."

"Oh, you'll want to be there for this one."

With those ominous words, Barry followed Joe down the stairs, to join the crowd of officers gathered in the bullpen, where Captain Singh was addressing the force.

"…now Detective Thawne, as former head of the now-disbanded Flash Task Force, will present the Department's official policy regarding sudden spatial displacement." Singh ceded the floor to Eddie, who took up a position next to a whiteboard - on which, Barry could see as he got closer, the words 'Sudden Spatial Displacement' were written across the top in blue marker, above a bulleted list.

"Uh, right." Eddie cleared his throat, "So, some of you have had interactions with the individual known as the Flash –  _and you can put your hands down_ ,  _there's no need to_  – " he cleared his throat again,"These interactions are primarily characterized by a sudden...'whoosh'" He grimaced; perhaps at the lack of articulation, or maybe he hadn't meant to add finger-quotes. "One moment, you're standing in one place, and the next you're someplace else entirely."

Several heads nodded along in the crowd. Barry tried to hide behind Joe as inconspicuously as possible, finding it very uncomfortable to be talked about in this way.

"For those who've experienced it, you know how disorienting it can be. For those who think I'm making all this up -  _have you been living under a rock, I mean seriously_  - "

The Captain cleared his throat, and Eddie - Detective Thawne - straightened his posture and reined in his less-professional remarks.

"Right." He coughed into his hand, and then gestured to the board behind him, "So a set of guidelines has been pulled together for what you should do should you find yourself in this situation.

"The number one thing to remember: Don't Panic." He tapped the first bulleted point. "The Flash is considered non-hostile - "

"Didn't he pulled you out of a car and start beating on you?" someone in the audience asked - it sounded like Sergeant Brennan. He had a penchant for snide comments (also, salmon and cream cheese bagels; his breath was always terrible).

Barry had to give Eddie credit; he kept an admirably straight face, under the circumstances. "There was a misunderstanding that has since been resolved," he answered blandly.

" _Is he doing this just to mess with me?_ " Barry hissed under his breath to Joe.

"Actually, he's been working on this since before he found out about you - the memo went out two weeks ago, remember?" Joe whispered back, nudging his attention back to the front.  _Right, this wasn't the time or place to be discussing Flash business_.

Except, it apparently  _was_  the time and place for  _everyone_  to be discussing Flash business. Just not the place for Barry-as-the-Flash to be talking about  _being_  the Flash (he made a mental note to read any inter-departmental memos more carefully in the future, even if they didn't appear to apply to him).

"The Flash has assisted the Department on multiple occasions, and has been a particularly big help in assisting civilians away from danger." Eddie continued. (Barry was pretty sure, by now, Eddie was avoiding looking in his direction). "Which brings us back to our first point - " he underlined 'Don't Panic' twice - "As an ally, the Flash is not likely to drop you into a hazardous situation. So the next thing to do…"

"Are we really condoning vigilantism?" That was probably Brennan's partner, Officer Chang.

To Barry's surprise, Captain Singh answered the question. "Citizen's arrest is legal in our state. As long as the crime is committed in his presence, the Flash can detain the offender. If he just-so-happens to be  _fast_  enough to bring his presence to crimes already in progress…" Singh shrugged, letting the conclusion go unspoken. He stepped back and waved Eddie to continue.

"So, there's no need to panic. Remember, the Flash will be moving you out of danger, so - "

"What about the time I was on my way to get coffee when suddenly I was moved into an alley, in front of a guy in his underwear?" Officer Paulson's Boston accent was particularly thick.

"In his..." his eyes flicked to Barry briefly (still trying to inconspicuously hide behind Joe with renewed subtle vigor), before he schooled his expression. "Ah, was the man - had he committed a crime?"

"He didn't have a permit for his handgun." Paulson conceded, "I think he might have been trying to mug someone; he matched the description of a reported purse snatcher in the area who could have escalated."

Eddie fumbled his notecards, trying to find his place, "Right, so, that illustrates our next point – assess your surroundings. If you haven't been moved out of danger, it's possible you've been moved to apprehend someone. You might find yourself facing someone known to be armed and dangerous; remind yourself that the Flash would not bring you onto the scene without securing it first. Um… in some cases there may not be an active warrant or even APB out for the person, so you should try to find out why they've been tied up. You can try asking them, which works with surprising frequency, or canvassing for nearby witnesses.

"Not all displacements are the result of saving your life or detaining criminals. Sometimes, you may be brought to an emergency situation, when more hands are needed to assist. So…" he added a third underline to 'Don't Panic.' "I really feel like I can't stress that enough," he mused, capping his marker. "Yes, you might find yourself suddenly in an emergency situation, but taking the time to properly orient yourself could save lives. Again, the Flash won't have placed you in  _immediate_  danger."

"To review: First, don't panic. Next, assess your surroundings. Locate any people in your vicinity, identify the likely reason the Flash moved you, and act accordingly, whether it's arresting or assisting." Eddie smiled broadly and seemed greatly relieved to have finished his presentation without any more interruptions.

"Thank you, Thawne." Captain Singh stepped forward, "These procedural points will be included in the next update to the handbook. If anyone has any suggestions, please speak to myself or Detective Thawne. For those of you who've experienced it, and have any advice for how to cope with the dizziness or nausea some have reported, by all means, we'd appreciate your input."

Barry leaned in to whisper to Joe, "Is it really that bad? Getting moved? I guess I don't really notice…"

"You wouldn't," he snorted. Then, seeing the devastated look in Barry's eyes, "It's the lack of forewarning that's the most shocking. Maybe you could let people know before you move them? That helps a lot."

Up in front, Singh wasn't finished speaking, "We don't know why things have gotten so crazy in our city. We don't know how the Flash can do the things he does, or how someone was able to impersonate our own Detective Thawne, or any of the other odd occurrences you've no doubt been hearing chatter about. So while we're on the topic, I just want to take this opportunity to say that if something inexplicable has happened to you, or if you yourself have done something inexplicable, you can come to me – "

_"What?!"_  Barry squawked, startled out of his slump.

"If I might finish –"

"I just - I've seen the third X-Men movie (though I wish I hadn't) and if you think –" Barry fumbled for a reason for his outburst, all eyes on him– Joe elbowed him in the ribs (too little, too late).

"Mr. Allen, my office." Singh gestured sharply.

But Barry just couldn't stop babbling (couldn't  _not_  argue the point, the consequences of which were too terrifying to contemplate), "You can't force people to come forward…"

At the end of his patience, Singh snapped out one last, "My office, now," before turning on his heel and striding away.

* * *

_"My office, now."_  David Singh didn't even wait to see if Allen was following him, he just marched to his office and held the door open pointedly. To his complete lack of surprise, when he turned back Joe was right behind him, with his ward trailing in his footsteps.

David rubbed at his forehead, and the mounting headache therein. "It's not the principal's office, Detective West; he doesn't need you to hold his hand."

Allen shuffled forward, "Oh, that's alright, I don't mind."

"Well, if it was your office, that'd be great. But it's not." He resisted the urge to tap his foot impatiently, because it  _wasn't_  a principal's office, and settled for glaring instead. Allen, after a frantic exchange of expressions with Joe, at last followed him inside alone.

David closed the door behind him, and moved to stand behind his desk. "Mister Allen." The sullen CSI twitched violently, "why don't you have a seat." He gestured to the chair in front of him, which the young man settled into as though it were about to bite him at any moment.

"Now, before you fly off the handle again, I want to make one thing abundantly clear. I am not now, nor will I ever be, requiring anyone with…  _abilities_  in this department to come forward."

"But you said…"

"You mean, those few words I managed to say before you interrupted?" He arched his brow, and Allen slumped lower in his chair, ears flushed pink.

David let the silence drag for a moment, during which time Allen continued to fidget in his seat, before changing tracks and asking, rhetorically, "Do you know what one of the most insidious aspects of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' was? It reinforced the message that homosexuality was something to be ashamed of, something to hide." He could see that while Allen agreed with him, he was confused about the sudden shift in the direction of their discussion. David leaned forward across his desk to hammer the point home, "So when I tell the officers on my force that if something unexplainable has happened to them, they 'can feel free to talk to me,' what I mean is that they don't have to be ashamed, or hide in fear. Do we have an understanding, Mr. Allen?"

"Oh. That - that makes sense." He nodded, staring at David in apparent shock.

"Had I been allowed to finish, I would have said that anyone with such abilities  _may come to me._  If there are any on the force, I want them to feel that they can be honest, that they shouldn't feel afraid to come forward, they don't need to worry about retribution."

"So, what you're saying is, you're... cool with meta-humans?" his fingers continued to twist themselves into knots in his lap.

David couldn't help drawing in a sharp breath; he let it out slowly, before affecting a casual tone, trying not to spook the kid who clearly had no idea what he'd just said, "'Meta-humans'? There's a word?"

_And dammit_ , but that expression was far too familiar to David, from all his years working interrogations, when the suspect first realized they'd given away something critical - a reaction that told David more than the slip-up itself, a reaction that he  _hated_ now because Barry wasn't a suspect, this wasn't an interrogation, and his purpose behind this discussion was to spread his message of non-judgement.

It clearly hadn't gotten through, if Allen looked ready to bolt.

"Allen...  _Barry,_  I've known you since you were a kid, since Joe took you in."

"Since you  _interrogated_  me." Which, yes, that was a fair accusation, since David had been present when he'd given his statement, even if he hadn't been the one asking questions. Still, he'd take a surly Allen over a panicked one any day.

"This is not an interrogation; I am not going to pry - I do mean that," he emphasized in the face of Allen's disbelieving scoff. "I told you at the beginning that I am not requiring any...  _meta-humans_  on the force to come forward. That means I'm not going to go seeking them out, either. The third X-Men movie was the worst of the trilogy, hands-down; I can't believe Rob liked it. But it does give us some idea of the direction public opinion is going to go. And that's why I want to nip this in the bud. If we as law enforcement can throw our support behind those who use their abilities for good, like the Flash... if we show that law and order in our city has not been overthrown… then that'll give peace a chance. Sparking off a witch-hunt would be counter-productive to that goal, don't you agree?"

"y-yeah."

David waited to see if he was going to say anything more, trying to decide if Allen really didn't want to talk, or if he was waiting for an explicit invitation.

" _Is_ there something you would like to say to me?"

Barry squirmed in his chair, his breathing kicking up. Then he exhaled gustily, and said, shakily, "I - I -" a deep breath, "I  _am_  meta-human." He blinked, wide-eyed, looking somewhat surprised. Gathering himself, he looked David steadily in the eye, challengingly. But David stood by his earlier assertion - he didn't need to know the details.

"Thank you for trusting me with this."

Allen let out an explosive breath of relief, his eyes looking a little glassy.

David stood up, "Why don't you stay here while I finish talking to everyone - unless you think you can keep a straight face while I go out there and finish what I was going to say before you interrupted?"

"Ah, no, that's fine; I'll stay." He was still very flustered, so it was probably for the best he wasn't returning to the bullpen where he'd have to be stoic.

"Good." David paused, one hand on the doorknob, "Maybe you could clear something up for me." He turned back and tried to broach the topic as diplomatically as possible, but in this case it was something he really needed to know. "Is the meta-human phenomenon - " he stopped, backtracked, decided it needed a more personal touch, tried again, "How did this happen, Allen? How the  _hell_  did this happen? When the Flash first appeared, I thought it was something he'd done to himself, but now more and more reports keep coming in, of all different weirdness - is there some common environmental contaminant they've all been exposed to, or what? Do you even know?" He hoped Allen knew - but if it  _was_  environmental, he might not have any idea...

"Ummm... I, I don't, um, I, uh..." Barry proved himself capable of fidgeting  _even more_  than he had been previously, which David had not thought possible. Time to let him off the hook before he really put his foot in it.

"We'll have to continue this discussion another time. I've left everyone waiting long enough."

"uh, y-yes, Sir."

Probably for the best; he had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> acronyms:  
> NMR - Nuclear Magnetic Resonance spectroscopy. A method for elucidating the chemical structure of an unknown compound  
> APB - All Points Bulletin. Some places use BOLO (Be On the Look Out) to mean basically the same thing. As a cop you might get treated like a complete amateur who watches too many cop shows if you use the wrong one, or they might not care.
> 
> So, the first half is very much, 'how might the CCPD respond to the Flash?' I just wanted to poke at the differences in how the Arrow and the Flash are treated by their respective cities. Granted, the Arrow began as a serial killer, so that likely had a major impact. Also, Oliver spends a lot of time actively hunting down individuals, whereas most of the work the Flash is seen doing by the police is responding to calls on the police scanner and helping people out of trouble. Most of his criminal arrests go to Joe or Eddie (except for the ones that go into his secret super-villain prison, but that's a separate issue).
> 
> As far as citizen's arrests go - it's not as cut-and-dry as I've presented it here. For one thing, I'm pretty sure the Flash would need to remain present for it to count, and they'd probably need his testimony in court. Good luck sending a subpoena to the fastest man alive.
> 
> Singh's definitely gone through a 180, from approving Eddie's stop-the-Flash task force to singing his praise - the turning point seems to be, unsurprisingly, the fight with Cold and Heatwave that also made the Flash public, after which he could be a little more open about his do-gooding.
> 
> But as far as other meta-humans go, the CCPD only ever faces two after the Flash is revealed in "Revenge of the Rogues" - everybody else is using technology. So there still isn't strong reason for them to suspect that humans-with-preternatural-abilities exist, or that the Flash is one of them. After all, he could have built himself a high-tech speed suit, and so here's where I'm allowing Singh to make correct assumptions, which I'd otherwise rather avoid. I just thought it'd be a neat conversation for him to have with Barry, and it tied in well with Eddie and his white-board.
> 
> Singh was fun to write. There's not a whole lot of background on him in the show; I built up the idea that he'd be 'cool with meta-humans' from his repeated adulation of the Flash, i.e. "luckily it's also a world where The Flash exists." He might not have an explanation for the Flash, but he doesn't fear or reject him for being Other.
> 
> Besides that, Singh's known to be snarky, but since he's Captain, you just have to sit there and let him dish it. Having a softer side via "his bark is worse than his bite" doesn't necessarily mean that you'll get to see it.


	2. The Follow-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Singh and Barry finally get to finish their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is set after 'Who Is Harrison Wells,' but before 'Grodd Lives,' Barry doesn’t know that Eiling knows.

When David returned to his office at the conclusion of the presentation, Allen had already disappeared (an unsurprising turn of events). David did not want to draw attention to Allen’s earlier reaction, so he didn’t go to check on him in his lab, and when he cast about for Joe to send up in his stead, to make sure that the kid was really alright, he found that the man was already absent from the bullpen. Good.  
  
Less good was the fact that he caught sight of neither hide nor hair of Allen for the remainder of the week. This wasn’t, on the face of it, all that unusual; as Captain, it wasn’t his responsibility to personally oversee the scientists upstairs. However, as Joe’s kid, Barry Allen was almost always passing through, not to mention all the times he tagged along to crime scenes (even the ones he hadn’t been assigned).  
  
Moreover, Allen was being unusually punctual – David would have expected to have had to remind him about a late report by now, and now he didn’t even have the pretext of reprimanding him for tardiness to call him to his office.  
  
But, as Rob kept reminding him, there wasn’t anything he could do in these situations except practice his patience (not that he’d given Rob any details – he kept what Barry had told him in confidence. Rob just knew him extremely well, and knew what it meant when David attacked his quinoa with particularly spiteful aggression). ~~~~  
  
It wasn’t until Tuesday morning that Allen finally started returning to David’s peripheral vision, appearing every so often as part of the crowd in the station, and while he continued to rush about, he no longer did so in a manner that completely avoided David’s sight-lines. And when afternoon rolled around, Allen surprised him by timidly knocking on David’s office, report in hand. ~~~~  
  
“Uh, hey, Captain. I have the results for, um…” He dropped the case file perfunctorily on the desk like the prop it was, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “Is, is now a bad time? If you’re busy, I can come back later – “ From the way he rushed the words out, it sounded as though he rather hoped that was the case. ~~~~  
  
“I have time now.” And David pushed the report aside to give him his undivided attention. ~~~~  
  
“I'm sure you have… a lot of questions,” Allen hedged, pulling up a chair.  
  
“That is certainly true, Mister Allen.” True, and also a titanic understatement. David had SO MANY QUESTIONS. “Are you offering to answer some questions, or would you rather just share whatever you feel comfortable sharing?” ~~~~  
  
Barry snorted, some of his usual good humor returning to his slightly crooked smile. “To be honest, sir, I wouldn’t know where to begin.” ~~~~  
  
David wasn’t entirely sure he knew where to start either, but the beginning seemed as good a place as any. “When did… it start?” He’d already promised not to ask what ‘it’ was. And David had a strong feeling that even though Barry had come forward with the intent of opening up, he likely drew a firm line at whatever his ability was (if it could be called that. David did not understand how any of this worked). After all, when they last spoke Allen had been very defensive, testing David’s promise not to pry by deliberately not offering any details about what he could do, and that unspoken challenge remained between them. So long as David did not ask what Barry’s power was, he would have the young man’s trust. ~~~~  
  
“I first noticed when I woke up from my coma…”  
  
David nodded, then asked the obvious follow-up, “Did you undergo any experimental coma treatments?” ~~~~  
  
“What? No!” Barry startled, seemingly completely bewildered by the line of inquiry. ~~~~  
  
“Could any of your doctors have done something while you were unconscious?” David pressed, trying to get to the root of it. If they could figure out what caused metahumans to gain their powers… ~~~~  
  
“No!" came the immediate, indignant response. ~~~~  
  
David sighed at his short-sightedness. "How would you know? You were in a coma.” ~~~~  
  
“I wasn't experimented on!" Allen insisted. ~~~~  
  
“But how can you _know_  that, unless you know what really caused it?” ~~~~  
  
That gave Allen some pause, which piqued David’s interest. _Did that mean he_ did _know...?_  "… I trust my doctors!” ~~~~  
  
Hmm. Knew more than he was saying, then – and unlikely to say any more. Time to allow the question to die (but not before he’d had the chance to yank Allen’s chain a bit). He leaned forward, and said, straight-faced, “Barry, this is important - if there's a rogue doctor at CC General, performing illegal human experiments…” Though with the way things were going in the city, maybe that wasn’t as much of a stretch as it might once have been. ~~~~  
  
Allen folded his arms defensively, “I wasn't at CC General for very long; Joe had me moved to S.T.A.R. Labs.” ~~~~  
  
“… and you _don't_  think they experimented on you?” Too easy. He stifled a grin at Barry’s squawk, but perhaps he didn’t hide his amusement well enough, because Allen huffed and rolled his eyes, answer enough to David’s query. ~~~~  
  
David drummed his fingers in thought. “Who else knows, besides Joe?” ~~~~  
  
“What makes you think Joe knows?” ~~~~  
  
He did not dignify that with a response.  
~~~~  
Barry ducked his head, sheepish. “Alright, yeah. But, I, uh, I don’t feel comfortable giving you names; you wouldn’t need to know unless you were someday going to talk to them about me. And, well.” He continued, no doubt anticipating David’s response, “I don’t mean to say that you’d talk without my permission, just that… there’s not much use in having that information, in that case. Sir.” ~~~~  
  
"Barry, I think we can drop the formalities, if we’re having this conversation.” A thought occurred to him, “Would you feel more comfortable if Joe were here for this?" ~~~~  
  
Barry shifted in his seat, started fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, "Nnnoooo? I don’t think he’d actually want me having this conversation. He’s very… very protective. Worried about me, and people knowing." He flapped one hand in a vague gesture that could have meant anything. ~~~~  
  
"Then I’d like to thank you again for trusting me with this, and know that your trust is not misplaced.” He steepled his fingers as he tried not to take Joe’s implicit lack of trust in him personally. Thinking back to Barry’s fears the last time he’d been in this office made David consider where his longtime friend might be coming from… "Joe has very good reasons to be concerned. Unfortunately, while we have laws against discrimination based on race, age, sex and religion…" he was resolutely not going to be bitter about what _else_  was not included on that list, "And while there are protections for those with disabilities, there’s nothing on the books for people _with_  abilities. Right now, the laws haven’t taken a position on metahumans. Nationally, they’re not even recognized as existing, though media coverage has been steadily expanding – " ~~~~  
  
"The government knows," Barry cut-in abruptly. ~~~~  
  
"Yes, I've been speaking with the mayor, but beyond our city…" ~~~~  
  
Barry shook his head, stiffly, "No. The - the military. Part of the Army, at least. General Eiling, he - " and then he clammed up, lips pressed tightly together. ~~~~  
  
"General Eiling, _what?_ " he spoke, slowly, the cold weight of foreboding settling in his gut.  
  
Barry shook his head mutely, trembling slightly. That sent up all sorts of warning flags, as nightmare scenarios played through David's head. He’d liked to read comics growing up (and there was a childlike part of him that was positively gleeful to be living in a city with a real-life superhero), and military interest in powered people rarely ended well for anyone. It ended particularly poorly for anyone caught in a government lab (and what did it say about his life, that comic books had become a point of reference?). ~~~~  
  
“Barry,” he tried to rein in his wild speculations, “Does General Eiling know you’re a metahuman?” The General had not made a very positive impression the last time he’d been here, taking swaggering to unprofessional levels. David had pegged him as a bully within moments of meeting him, and the thought of what an unscrupulous man like that could have done to instill fear in _Barry Allen_ of all people - Barry Allen, who was reckless and headstrong and generally well-liked by everybody – made David’s blood boil.  
  
“N-no. Well, not _me_ , but - " and he shut his mouth obstinately again. But Barry held a hand, gesturing _wait_ , as he found his words. “In a manner of speaking,” he finally settled on. ~~~~  
  
David breathed through his nose, with controlled, careful breaths. “Has he acted on this knowledge?” ~~~~  
  
That was definitely a flinch! But Barry only shrugged with one shoulder and tried to brush it aside, “He mostly seems to be leaving it alone now.” ~~~~  
  
_‘Now.’_ Was there ever a more ominous word? “Extortion?” In all honesty, David was hoping for extortion, as the least-bad scenario. ~~~~  
  
“Attempted kidnapping,” Barry reluctantly corrected, “But, since he failed, and he’s leaving me alone now, that’s not really a problem. And - ” he shrugged again “ – it’s like you said, with the legal rights and whatnot. He’s military, so I don’t know whether it counts as kidnapping, maybe he had the authority – “  
  
“No, Barry.” Dear God, he wanted to strangle Eiling. “You’re an American citizen on U.S. soil. You have your rights. Even a general has to follow the law, or face court-martial.” How could Barry doubt that? He hoped he hadn’t put that doubt there, by raising the issue of legal standing. He rubbed his temples, trying to work through all the implications of this new information. “Assault is probably a given, with attempted kidnapping, yes?”  
  
“Only in the second degree.” Barry mumbled, looking down at his hands.  
  
“Only in – Barry! You know that's a felony!" Second degree assault could mean a number of things, from ‘attempting to kill someone in the heat of passion’ to ‘injuring someone by recklessly discharging a firearm.’ If Eiling had been trying to abduct Barry, David doubted that either of these applied; use of a deadly weapon seemed more likely, and the urge to strangle Eiling increased tenfold.  
  
Barry looked him in the eye, a resolute cant of his head that David was all too familiar with. “Captain Singh, with all due respect, I’m not pressing charges. I don’t need that kind of attention, and besides, no lasting damage done.” ~~~~  
  
‘No lasting damage.’ _Lasting._ Of course. Barry was killing him with all these qualifiers. ~~~~  
  
“If Eiling comes after you again – " ~~~~  
  
“He won’t,” Barry raised his chin stubbornly. ~~~~  
  
“ _If he comes after you again,"_  David overrode him forcefully, “You will tell me.” A brief staring contest ensued, but David Singh wasn’t a police captain for nothing.  
  
“Fine,” Barry agreed sullenly, folding his arms. “I’ll tell you. If there’s time, and I’m not too busy, you know, evading him. But I’m still not pressing charges, and you shouldn’t go after him; you’ll risk your job, and that’s just not worth it. The city needs you, Captain, and so far as Eiling is concerned… if I’m not worrying, then neither should you.”  
~~~~  
David wanted to keep arguing, but it was unlikely to do much good. The silence stretched, and one of them was going to have to break it. Had the conversation run its course, now that Barry had concluded one topic and had not offered a new one? Did this mean David had to offer him an out? He wasn’t done asking questions, not by a long shot, but he didn’t want their conversation to veer into interrogation. ~~~~  
  
“You _are_ okay now?” he asked, trying to banish thoughts of Eiling from his mind.  
  
“Well, yeah.” And Barry did look fine, healthy. Maybe a little sleep-deprived, but that wasn’t anything new – Allen might arrive late to work more often than not, but he also clocked longer hours, working diligently and writing very thorough reports.  
~~~~

“That’s good.” David hesitated before asking his next question, uncertain whether it would cross one of the unspoken lines regarding Barry’s abilities. “What does it feel like? To be metahuman?”  
  
“Honestly, it… feels like being a person.” From his open expression, he didn’t mean that as a jab at David for asking an inappropriate question. “It’s different, and I’m different, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel strange. And maybe that’s strange, that it doesn’t feel strange or weird, but to me, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I mean, there was still some figuring-out to do, but… but it was never like an identity crisis. I don’t feel like I was changed into something I’m not. Almost the exact opposite, becoming… more _me_." He smiled, a wide, genuine smile as he thought about it, and that more than anything convinced David that he was going to be alright.  
  
There was a knock at the door, then, and David looked up to see Vukovich waiting outside. He turned back to Barry, who shrugged.

“I’m good. Might as well end on a high note, right?” Barry pushed back his chair and stood up.  
  
“My door is always – well, no, it’s not always open. But if you have any concerns about how the department is handling metahuman issues…”  
  
“I’ll come talk to you. And if I have any personal issues…”  
  
“You’ll talk to Joe.”  
  
Allen huffed a laugh. “Thanks, for… for being so understanding. And for not prying. It’s such a, such a huge secret, and I feel like I can’t tell anyone anything, because it’ll be an all-or-nothing situation, and since ‘all’ is off the table, that only leaves ‘nothing,’ and having ‘say nothing’ as your only option… it doesn’t feel all that great.”  
  
David stood as well, and offered his hand, “Thank you for sharing. You are, and always have been, a very remarkable man, and a credit to the department, Mister Allen.” He had high hopes for him, once Snodgrass finally retired.  
  
Allen flushed at the (well-deserved) praise, muttered something that sounded a bit like ‘still so weird to see you acting nice,’ which David didn’t think he was supposed to hear, and beat a hasty retreat, nearly bumping into Vukovich on the way out, saved only by his quick reflexes.  
  
David settled once more into his position as Police Captain in the CCPD, and all the endless headaches and forms that entailed. “Yes, what is it now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missouri, where I map Central City to (though, in this case, the same would be true for many of the surrounding states, like Kansas, Nebraska, Oklahoma, Tennessee) does not, at the time of this writing, have any laws passed prohibiting discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity. It does have an executive order prohibiting discrimination in _public employment_ based on sexual orientation only, that’s been in place since 2010. However, unlike a law, an executive order needs only to be allowed to expire, and its protections will go away. This is what Singh is thinking about when he’s listing what groups are protected under law.
> 
> So far as I can tell (in my quick 10 minutes of research, I did not cross-check my sources), Missouri doesn't distinguish between 'assault' and 'battery' the way some jurisdictions do, where 'assault' is the threat of bodily harm and 'battery' is the physical impact. Instead, Missouri has different degrees of assault, so when Singh says that 'assault is probably a given,' what he's hoping is that the attempted kidnapping involved the lowest, third degree, and was limited to intimidation and threats.


	3. Performance Review

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Singh has reason to look back on his past interactions with Barry Allen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the timeline, I’d like to make a note of the following points: Singh is preoccupied with wedding planning in 1x21, is away on his honeymoon in 1x22, and is not seen in person again on screen until the singularity. And then sometime between the end of season 1 and the start of season 2, “meta-human” becomes a household name.
> 
> I've got some meta on the subject over on [tumblr](http://quarticmoose.tumblr.com/post/144516953549/meta-on-the-word-meta-human), there was just no way I was going to be able to work it all into this fic as I'd originally been trying to do.
> 
> Also: cliche bad guys are cliche and I'm not even sorry.

In the weeks following the revelation that Barry Allen was a meta-human, David was so busy with formalizing wedding plans that puzzling over the origins of their powers and the effects they’d have on his city was put on the back-burner, pushed almost entirely from his mind. He had enough on his plate making sure that the caterers knew to make more than one vegan option, that the florist knew that they’d changed the color scheme to blue and gold, and that the DJ knew that Aunt Sri might try to give a saxophone solo, _which under no circumstances must she be allowed to do_.

Life went on, time flew by, no matter that there weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done that needed to get done. He was so distracted that he felt like he didn’t understand half of what was going on in his own precinct anymore – why did Thawne return from his time off looking more exhausted than David had ever seen him (and even somewhat malnourished)? Why did Joe throw that banana in the trash with extreme prejudice? Where was Barry Allen?

(actually that last was such a perennial question it was more of a reflex than anything else. He’d long ago given up on getting a satisfactory answer)

When the wedding went off without a hitch, David kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Rob chided him for being a cynic and a pessimist, but David couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been too easy. Fortunately, his husband did an excellent job distracting him from his worries – they’d chosen Sydney for their honeymoon and had had a fantastic time. Rob got to put his boating experience to good use, and David discovered his new favorite wine.

So _of course_ things would go to hell shortly after their return, when the sky literally ripped open and a black hole appeared above their city. After that, the weirdness of Central City couldn’t be ignored any longer, not even by the most die-hard skeptics. Things got... very tense, for a while.

In the aftermath of the clean-up, Cecile asked him if he had any thoughts on how to handle meta-humans; David was briefly flummoxed at where she’d even learned the term, but didn’t ask. Some of her questions he had good answers for – STAR Labs would be able to refit Iron Heights with the necessary tech to contain meta-humans, for example, so that was one problem taken care of.

Some of her other questions, not so much. Crime was still crime, on this they agreed, at least; it didn’t matter whether someone used a hailstorm to rob a bank or did it the old-fashioned way, it was still a felony. But they disagreed whether assault by a meta-human should automatically be considered “assault with a dangerous weapon,” which carried a harsher sentence. David argued against, saying it unfairly targeted meta-humans, who, following that line of logic, must always be considered armed and dangerous. And it could be misapplied to meta-humans whose powers were not involved in the conflict at all; if they used their fists to throw a punch, it shouldn’t make a difference if they could breathe underwater or not.

Cecile countered that the power some of these individuals possessed in their pinky finger alone made .45-caliber rounds look like chump change, that while she was sympathetic to his point of view, there was too great a difference between 'being genuinely unarmed' and 'possessing logic-defying powers' to allow a literal reading of _unarmed_. Ultimately, it wasn’t up to them to decide –  either the government would pass legislation clarifying the issue, or else a court case would bring things to a head – and they had to let the matter lie. David wasn't particularly looking forward to either scenario.

* * *

The city rebuilt, brick by brick. Not quite the same as it was before, but recognizably still home.

CCPD had lost a lot of good officers the past year, a record high. Hell, Joe alone had lost two partners in as many years, including his future son-in-law. David didn’t want to push him too hard to find another partner, but he knew he couldn’t allow Joe to operate on his own indefinitely, especially not after Cecile had pulled him aside and recommended that he keep an eye on Joe (for what reason, she didn’t say).

They were getting an influx of new recruits to make up the shortfall, but most of them didn’t take the presence of meta-humans in the city seriously enough. David had approved Detective West’s plan for an Anti-MetaHuman Taskforce, of course he had, but it struggled to maintain membership; requests for transfers out of Central City spiked notably every time members of the taskforce faced their first real meta-human. Still, he kept Ramon on as a scientific adviser, both because it was necessary and because having him around seemed to lift the spirits of the officers around him, who’d been to more than enough funerals in recent times.

David had hoped that hiring Ramon might help bring Allen out of his shell as well, but as far as he could tell, the young man went out of his way to avoid his friend. Ever since the freak black hole, it had become at once both more important and more difficult to engage Barry Allen, who’d become extremely withdrawn and at times even punctual, which was very out-of-character for him.

So David was not particularly surprised to find himself keeping one eye on the CSI as they processed a home burglary in Windsor Heights. Allen looked much the same as he always did these days, grimly determined and worn ragged at the edges; David was pretty sure he was wearing the same shirt he had worn yesterday. But maybe that was only a side-effect of being called to process evidence at a crime scene at four-thirty in the morning…

There really wasn’t much to see, he mused into his second travel cup of coffee. The house’s security alarm had alerted the police when the back door had been broken open; however despite the CCPD’s rapid response time, the perpetrators had already cleared out by the time patrol cars arrived on the scene. The owners were out of town on vacation for the week, and there weren’t any witnesses.

Currently, he was trying to keep warm in the increasingly chilly kitchen, a constant draft of cold, pre-dawn air blowing in from the broken door. Officer Waid was completely absorbed in his phone, clearly ready to call it a day. Ahmed was doing slightly better, at least nominally reviewing the facts of the case on his notepad, but his slightly-glazed expression betrayed him. At least Allen had enough focus for all of them, methodically gathering evidence.

It should have been a routine B&E case – photograph the scene, dust for fingerprints, and move on to other cases while they waited (hoped) for the stolen items to surface.

It _should_ have been routine, so of course the relatively peaceful early morning was interrupted by movement where there shouldn’t be movement, and David reflexively drew his sidearm, keeping it at the ready and pointed low.

“This is the police! Show yourself!” he barked in the direction of the dining room, and he was peripherally of his officers coming to attention and similarly readying themselves.

“You’ll never get us!” the man’s voice came from around the door frame, and he punctuated his statement by firing several wild shots from a pistol.

"Allen, GET DOWN!" David bellowed, pushing the young man down behind the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, following a moment later himself.

‘Us,’ the man had said. _Well, fuck._ Their shooter had at least one unknown, possibly-armed accomplice hanging around somewhere. So much for clearing the crime scene – how had they managed to miss that their thieves had not, in fact, left the scene? When David found out who was responsible, he was going to tear them a new one.

But first, they all had to get out of this intact.

He popped his head above the counter just long enough to confirm that Ahmed and Waid had both found shelter, though their sightlines were less than ideal. He could hear, over the ringing in his ears, the sound of Waid requesting backup into his radio – so the stand-off would not continue indefinitely. That was something, at least.

A stray bullet clipped a large copper pot with a resounding clang. David couldn’t be sure, but the angle of the shot didn’t seem consistent with the others. Two shooters, then, and he couldn’t get eyes on the newcomer. He and his officers were effectively pinned down, returning fire when they could, secure enough for the time being… but how long could it last?

“Captain, I can help.”

David didn’t spare Allen a glance, instead making another quick survey of the room to see if he could spot the second shooter. “Stay _down_ , Allen.”

“I can _help_ , Singh,” he insisted again, tone dead serious.

He sounded so utterly certain that David paused and looked at him, because maybe Barry _could_ help, he _was_ a meta-human, after all… but more importantly…

“Are you bullet-proof?”

“No.”

“Then stay down!” David seized an opportunity to take a shot at an exposed elbow, but missed.

Barry seethed, and for a moment David thought he was going to try to force his way past him to get out from behind the counter - the kitchen island wasn’t completely freestanding, since it connected to the wall on one side. Which meant that Barry was effectively penned in, with David bodily blocking the only way out from behind it. David rather liked this arrangement, but Barry apparently had other ideas, if the way he shifted back and forth was any clue. 

David glared at him, immovable, until he visibly subsided, and then he refocused on his target to fire another shot. He thought their argument was over, but he was wrong.

“* _Let me help._ *”

David whipped around to stare – that warbled voice hadn’t sounded anything like Barry. Warped and resonant, it wasn’t a voice he’d ever heard in person before, though it matched descriptions he’d heard. Descriptions of…

"Oh."

So _that’s_ why he hadn’t wanted David to know what his meta-human ability was. It did rather give the game away. He looked into Allen’s eyes – in _The Flash’s_ eyes, which blazed with flickering lightning – and gave a small, barely-there nod, shifting to the side so that he was no longer penning Barry behind the counter, and less than a second later a gust of wind blasted past him.

He was still blinking the afterimages of lightning from his eyes when he heard near-simultaneous grunts from the dining room and the side hallway. Quickly surveying the scene, he saw both burglars slumped on the floor, disarmed and handcuffed, the lingering smell of gunpowder sharp in the air (gunpowder, and now ozone). The gust of wind returned behind him, and Barry Allen was back as if he’d never left.

Looking slightly sheepish, Allen gave a small wave.

David stared.

The moment stretched.

“Is it over?” Barry eventually asked with exaggerated hopefulness.

David didn’t know who he was trying to fool. Not himself, certainly, and he took a moment to marvel at what an astonishingly bad liar Allen was - that attempt to sound guileless was so unconvincing it bordered on parody. But he seemed to be waiting for a response, and David was at a loss.

“What?”

Allen sighed, and jerked his head in the direction of Ahmed and Waid, still out of sight. “Are they gone?” he asked again with false innocence, though now David could see that part of Barry’s difficulty with sounding genuine stemmed from the fact that he was pitching his voice to carry across the room.

Headache. He had such a pounding headache from everything that had just happened, his ears hurt from the gunfire, he honestly could not deal with these shenanigans right now.

Didn’t seem like he had much of a choice, though.

“Yes,” he spoke a little louder than he otherwise might have, “The Flash stopped them. Ahmed, Waid, are you alright?”

“We’re fine, Captain." Waid called back, "How’s the kid?”

He glanced at Barry, who heaved a long-suffering sigh at the diminutive. “Allen’s fine.”

Their backup arrived at that point, and the job of processing the crime scene and bagging all the bullets was passed on to a new team, one that hadn’t been shot at any time in the last hour. Allen was kept busy filling in his replacement on what needed to be done, which was just as well since it gave David a moment to think.

“Lucky the Flash arrived when he did,” Ahmed commented as a paramedic checked him over for injuries.

David grunted in response, too many racing thoughts and too much adrenaline making a garbled mess of his brain. He remembered: _*fire and ice and a mythic figure made real* *Allen apologizing, only digging himself deeper* *The Flash racing up the side of Rob’s building to put out a fire* *Barry, twitching, “I_ am _a meta-human”*_

Ahmed continued undeterred, clearly awed to have been personally saved by The Flash, “How did he know we needed help?”

“He was probably nearby when he heard the gunshots.”

“Doesn’t he ever _sleep_?”

David thought about his earlier observations, of a bone-tired young man wearing yesterday’s shirt.

“I’m sure he does.”

* * *

 

When they got back to the station, there was more activity than usual for such an early morning shift, but that was only to be expected, with a shootout. Instead of disappearing into the crowd or into his lab (or into the wind, David thought abruptly, that was another possibility), Barry was standing in the lobby, gazing up at the wall sculpture that dominated the space.

He approached cautiously, suddenly unsure even though he was clearly expected. “Barry, can we talk?”

Barry’s expression was unfathomable, but he did nod. “Sure, Captain.” 

Barry led him not to his lab but to a roof-access door. Neutral ground, David supposed, looking at the cigarette butts littering the ground and the air vents that arced into the space in irregular intervals. Several yards to the left, the repaired skylight to Barry’s lab caught the light of the rising sun and glowed a burnished gold.

“So…” Barry trailed off.

“So.” David answered, equally at a loss.

“Ta-daa?” Barry’s jazz-hands _vibrated_ through the air for a moment before he dropped his hands to his sides and started drumming his fingers nervously. He was, now that David was looking for it, almost in constant motion.

David had had the time to turn things over in his mind on the drive over; not as much time as he’d have liked, but enough to process through his initial reactions. He’d discovered that his primary reaction, after surprise, was embarrassment.

He didn’t mind that Barry hadn’t told him – he was neither a therapist nor a confidant, and as a vigilante (in the most technical sense), allowing David to maintain plausible deniability was probably a kindness. Now he’d have to be more mindful of his paperwork, weighing which details _should_ be obscured for the sake of the Flash’s identity against which details _could_ be fudged without harming the integrity of the report.

No, what he remembered most of all was the way he’d praised the Flash to high heaven, unwittingly all within earshot of the man in question. Joe’s kid, almost twenty years his junior, and David had acted like a complete fanboy, lifting the Flash up on a pedestal as though there was no problem he could not solve.

And Barry, who was the Flash, had heard every word. Mortifying was really the only word for it.

But if he’d known… could he really say that he would not have said exactly the same things? Swallowing his embarrassment might be a bitter pill, but it wasn’t as though the praise was undeserved; every piece of flattery had been sincerely meant. It wasn’t fair to the hero (or to Barry, for that matter) to think that being Barry Allen when he wasn’t wearing red leather could somehow depreciate his heroism. Allen had always been smart, with a drive to uncover the truth, and in possession of the biggest heart David had ever known. If David ever thought that being Barry Allen was a step down from _anything_ , he needed to re-examine his priorities.

The realization that he was _talking to The Flash_ , at this very moment, hit him upside the head once more. All the things he’d wanted to say to the hero if he had the chance burned unspoken in his throat and made his mouth dry.

One thought stood out from all the rest, however, the one thing he would tell the Flash if he could only say one thing (he'd had the chance to say it once, briefly, but it bore repeating).

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to…” Barry shifted, looking very uncomfortable.

“I do, and I want to. You saved us tonight, the way you’ve saved us countless other times.”

Barry shrugged, and zipped over to the edge of the roof to peer down without answering. David marveled at the casual display of speed, and wondered how much he held himself back on a daily basis.

He stepped forward so that he was standing at Barry’s shoulder. “You saved Rob’s life once, too. He said if I should ever come face to face with the Flash, I should pass along his thanks.”

“I’m glad he’s alright; he seems like a nice guy.” His eyes widened and he realized what he might have implied. “Not that being nice is a condition of getting rescued, of course - I’d have rescued him even if he were a big jerk! Er… and I’m not implying anything about your taste in men either, Captain, I didn’t say that I thought you’d marry a jerk – you’ll remember I said Rob seems nice!”

David blinked at the response, momentarily thrown. “Have you met him?”

Apparently the question took some thought to answer. “I don’t… think so? No, well, yes, sort of, but he won’t remember it.” Barry fidgeted, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. “There may have been a small amount of time travel involved, and it never happened.”

Time travel. That was… that was something. Definitely something. Something _huge_ that he would think about more at a later date, when he wasn’t running on fumes and stubbornness. Why was Barry Allen’s life so goddamn strange?

“What changed?”

“Huh?”

“What changed in the timeline that kept you from meeting Rob?” he clarified. “For that matter, what caused you to meet Rob in the first place?”

Barry was quiet for a long time. “You got hurt. Lightning, and a filing cabinet.” One of those seemed a lot less severe than the other, until Barry elaborated, “The lightning knocked you into a cabinet, which broke your spine. You survived, but a full recovery was pretty much off the table. Then it became a moot point, since a tidal wave was going to wipe out the entire city later that same day.”

“What happened?” A _tidal wave?_ The _entire city?_ How could that even happen? Missouri was smack dab in the middle of the U.S., for fuck’s sake! And _Jesus Christ_ , his _spine?_

“I tried to stop it. I don’t even know if I would have succeeded, since, well, since that’s when I found myself back in time, one day in the past. And I thought, I thought I could _stop_ it before it started, I could save you, and everybody, before Mardon had the chance to hurt anybody else.”

David sucked in a breath between his teeth. It sounded like he’d dodged a bullet, and he hadn’t even been aware of it. “It seems to me like you succeeded.”

Barry looked pained. “Time… finds ways to compensate. Otherwise…” He shook violently and David started forward reflexively; he looked ready to fall over, or fall apart, “Otherwise what’s to stop us from just… g-going back an-and f-fixing things?” His breathing was choked, every uneven breath a gasp.

Alarmed, David grabbed him by the shoulder and guided him to sit down with his back against the low wall that bordered the roof. He squatted in front of him and tried to find the words that would make this better, but felt that he could barely understand the problem, let alone fathom a solution. So instead he reached out and rested his hand on Barry’s knee – a paltry comfort, and wholly inadequate he felt, though it seemed to work for Barry, who marshalled his reserves of willpower after a minute or two and wiped the snot from his face

“I don’t even know why I’m such a mess right now,” Barry laughed, shaky, embarrassed, as he got to his feet. David felt like he had a couple of ideas.

“Go home, Allen. Get some rest.” David was once again shelving his questions for a later date, but he couldn’t in good conscience ask them now. Also, sleep sounded pretty heavenly, and David was not immune to its siren call.

Barry nodded absently, clearly agreeing reflexively without putting a lot of thought into what he was agreeing to. Then David nearly had a heart-attack when he turned around and ran off the side of the roof, but he was back a moment later, looking considerably more alert.

“Er… Captain, are you going to, you know, uh, tell anyone? About me?”

David side-eyed him, “I’m not in the business of outing meta-humans, Allen. We’ve been over this.”

“Yeah but… I’m also a vigilante, operating outside the law. When I hide my identity, there’s no accountability… but there’s no other way to do it, I can’t stand still when people are in danger, and I have to wear a mask in order to – “

“To protect your loved ones. I get it.” Barry still looked hesitant, so he repeated himself (and he, as a general rule, strongly disliked repeating himself but he would when it was important, and this was important). “I really, really do. This city needs the Flash; for what reason would I possibly out you?”

“Well, you _did_  have an Anti-Flash Taskforce, once.” A surprisingly cheeky response, David thought. Maybe it sounded like something The Flash would say.

“And now we know better.” His own rejoinder could use some work, but that’s what an adrenaline crash did to one’s ability to banter.

Barry hmmed, “Speaking of the Taskforce, can we call it the Meta-human Response Team instead?”

That was actually a really good point. He wondered why no one had thought to say anything sooner – he wondered why _Joe_ hadn’t said anything, when the Anti-MetaHuman Taskforce was his own idea. Was he overcompensating, trying to prevent people from looking too closely at Barry by taking a hard line against meta-humans? Even sleep-deprived, David could see that that plan could only backfire. “Sounds great. Do you know what else sounds great right now? Sleep. Sleep sounds really excellent. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mister Allen, it shall be taken care of. Now, go get some rest. I don’t want to see you set foot in – or _on_ \- this building for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Yessir!” Barry snapped a surprisingly professional salute before blasting back over the side of the roof in blur of light and motion and a gust of wind.

David took the opportunity to step closer to the edge and watch the yellow streak weave through the street below before it disappeared from sight. The sun was fully above the horizon now, and traffic was starting to pick up. He closed his eyes and breathed for a moment, not thinking of anything in particular but so grateful, so very very grateful that he was alive, that Rob was alive, that the sun could still rise over Central City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On why Barry is having this breakdown in front of Singh and not Iris or Joe: firstly, this is Singh’s POV and a single moment in time so we don’t know that he hasn’t, and secondly, for the Team and his family he is trying to be strong and not add to their own grief.
> 
> So, I originally wrote 'the smell of cordite' instead of 'the smell of gunpowder,' and then later learned that my poetic enthusiasm had gotten the better of me, since cordite stopped being used as a propellant around 1945. Today, there are a ton of different kinds of propellants that can be used in firearms, some of them more 'powdery' than others.
> 
> Ozone is what you get when three oxygen atoms bind together to make O3, in place of the more commonly found O2. Supercharging the air via lightning is one way to accomplish this. There are other chemically-ways to do it as well. (I am so distracted right now looking up this [one article](http://mentalfloss.com/article/62297/5-myths-1920s-were-debunked-then-turned-out-be-true) I read a while back, about myths debunked in the 1920's that were actually true. There's a bit with ozone at the beach, very interesting.)
> 
> Also, that is technically a kitchen peninsula, not a kitchen island, but interior design is not Singh's forte.
> 
> Lastly, here's a deleted scene that did not make it into the final cut of this story:
> 
> David's days became increasingly peppered by messages that were as bizarre as they were alarming. Case in point:
> 
> “ _Heeeeeeey_ , Captain Singh.” David had the distinct impression that Allen would have chosen to lean casually against a wall had there been such a wall handy. “Remember when I said that General Eiling knew I was a metahuman in a manner of speaking? Turns out he definitely knows. Also, there may or may not be a telepathic gorilla underneath the city - Joe’s still pretty shaken up about it; I know he won’t say anything to you, but if you could, maybe, cut him a little slack for a bit? Thanksbye”
> 
> “Wha - ALLEN!”


	4. Rules and Regulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3x05 episode tag with an Internal Affairs spin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up at the confrontation between Julian, Barry, and Singh. No major spoilers for the episode!
> 
> This is also probably au for Internal Affairs, in that it's a big time skip forward from the main continuity of this AU, so it's not necessarily where the story inevitably goes.
> 
> Reminder that Julian's last name is Albert, and that this is how Singh thinks of him in his head, the way he thought of Barry as "Allen" until Barry started investing a lot of trust in him and their relationship stopped being entirely bound by their workplace hierarchy.

"Sir, Captain, that's it? I document eight different - "

"Nine," David corrected, glancing at the report on his desk.

" _Nine_ different violations of regulations and he gets a fifteen-second talking-to? Must be nice," Albert muttered.

"Oh, I'm not done with him yet. You can go, though, Mr. Albert."

Albert scowled, no doubt disappointed he wouldn't get to witness Allen getting rebuked, but he nodded formally - "Captain." - and walked briskly out the door, with a bit of a spring in his step (probably feeling smugly vindicated, to have been right about Allen. Or maybe it was simply schadenfreude).

David waited until the door was fully closed and Albert was on the far side of the bullpen before he turned back to Barry, who had tentatively sat down and was jittering one foot nervously.

"Allen. You've got to be more discrete."

"…Captain?"

"I cut you as much slack as I can, but that only works as long as no one else notices." He glared at his errant CSI, who continued to look inexplicably gobsmacked, as though David were speaking a foreign language. "If you keep this up, people are going to start throwing accusations  of favoritism around - you do understand that I'll have to start taking a harder line with you before it gets to that point, don't you?"

"Um, Captain Singh, sir, I don't think I follow."

"Clearly." David suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Whatever happened to our arrangement? I thought it was working out well. Did something change?"

"Um, could you maybe… refresh my memory? I'm drawing a bit of a blank, sorry. What arrangement?"

David scrutinized the young man in front of him closely. He certainly _looked_ like Barry Allen, and he sounded exactly like him, but if he'd been replaced with a doppleganger then it was vital that this conversation - about the arrangement David had with _the Flash_ \- go no further.

"Before I do, why don't you do something for me first. Could you please verify that you are, in fact, the Barry Allen of this Earth?"

Barry somehow managed to fall out of his chair in shock. (His cup of coffee miraculously managed not to spill, and David had a few ideas about how he manged that. Well, one idea, but it was a solid one). Barry sat on the floor, mouth hanging loosely open as he stared up at David, before he came to his senses and scrambled back into his seat.

"Wh-what do you mean 'this Earth?' There's just the one planet, right? Ha ha."

David tensed. "If you really were Barry Allen," he said, one hand creeping under his desk, "you would know the answer to that."

He pressed the Flash panic button and held his breath, waiting for help to arrive.

And kept waiting.

Across from him, a phone chimed; the imposter glanced at his text message and then turned back to David. "He says it's an emergency - can I please take this call?"

"You can answer so long as you stay right here where I can see you."

Clearly conflicted, the imposter waffled for a moment, eyeing the door as though considering whether it would be worth it to go against orders and leave anyway. Evidently the emergency was urgent enough that rather than press his luck, he decided to return the call in David's office.

"Cisco, what's… What do mean, Singh tripped the alarm? What alarm?" The man jolted to his feet.

David watched as his expression changed, from concern to wide-eyed shock, as he stared open-mouthed at David for the second time that day.

_"What do you mean Singh knows?!"_ he yelped loudly. He continued to gape as he listened to whatever Ramon was saying on the other end of the line.

David raised one eyebrow placidly. He still didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't going to let that be known.

Slowly, Barry – if it was Barry – lowered himself back into his chair. "No, everything's fine here… he's right in front of me, of course I'm sure… yeah, see you later. Bye."

He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture - he kept glancing at David and then away, flustered, and David was reminded of their first conversation about meta-humans, over a year ago. If this really was his Barry Allen, how had they gone back to square one?

"I guess this means, since you wanted me to prove my identity, I can tell you that I'm the Flash.” He paused a moment, in which he gulped visibly. “Ta-daa." Barry's jazz-hands vibrated as before, and David's feelings of déjà vu deepened.

"Why don't you remember any of this? Any of what we've talked about?"

Barry sighed mightily. "It's a long story…"

"Is it amnesia? I thought you had a healing factor… though I suppose that didn't help Wolverine much."

"You like the X-Men?" Barry perked up, seemingly poised to pursue that tangent before he shook his head. "Nevermind. It's not amnesia. Well, maybe it's true that it's got similar symptoms, but there's nothing wrong with my brain. And I didn't forget, the memories just… were never there."

_'Were never there'_ was an odd verb tense to use, but it _was_ one he'd heard before. "Is it time travel again? It is, isn’t it."

"How do you know about that?!"

"You told me."

David rubbed his temples as the full extent of the problem became evident: what Barry remembered and what actually happened (in this timeline, which was the only timeline David had ever known or would ever know) did not match up. And Barry obviously wouldn’t know where the mismatches were until they presented themselves, in the form of missing knowledge (or, as with Barry’s familiarity with Rob, knowledge where there should be ignorance).

But he and Barry had had their first heart-to-heart over a year ago! And Barry still remembered everything as recently as last month!

“How far back did you _go?_ And why did your memories suddenly change _now?”_

“Far. I went back far, went… too far. And I tried to undo what I did, but… Chaos Theory, maybe, or something. Little, imperceptible differences growing and changing things. As for why now... This time, I ran _forward_ in time, afterward, to return to when I left. I got back a few weeks ago, and that’s when, from your perspective, my memories changed.” He shuffled his feet, his expression somber and unusually grim.

David remembered everything Barry had ever told him about time travel. He especially remembered when he first learned it was possible, and a distraught Barry speaking in a choked-up voice: _“Time… finds ways to compensate. Otherwise… Otherwise what’s to stop us from just… g-going back an-and f-fixing things?”_

“What exactly _was_ our arrangement?” Barry broke the silence.

“It was very straightforward. You tell me when you need to run off, and I’ll send you out on ‘assignment’ so you aren’t taking unauthorized absences from work.”

“Oh. Cool. Yeah, can we do that again? That sounds really nice.”

David narrowed his eyes at him. “Only so long as you don’t abuse the privilege, Allen. As I said, I can only cover for you as long as no one notices.”

“I promise.” Barry nodded vigorously. “…So, who the heck is Julian?"

David pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off a headache. This conversation was beginning to look like it could go on indefinitely. "He's a meta-human specialist, and the senior tech in your lab. We couldn't just keep relying on Ramon for all our meta-human solutions; his availability was too inconsistent, especially when he went haring back to STAR Labs at the first whiff of trouble. I'm sure you can see how that would send the wrong message to the rest of the force about our preparedness. And hiring another CSI cut your workload in half, gives you more time to do what you need to do."

"But now it takes _forever_ to get anything done in the lab; I have to go slow _all the time."_

David snorted, unimpressed. "You shouldn't have been using your speed in the precinct in the first place - anyone could have walked in at any time."

"Yeah, but - "

"Allen. Moving at a normal pace isn't going to kill you."

"It _could_. If a bullet was coming for me or a building was falling, normal speed would definitely kill me.”

“You’re sharing your lab now. Deal with it.”

Barry groaned and rolled his eyes theatrically. David cleared his throat pointedly, and Barry immediately straightened his posture, ducking his head apologetically.

“If that’s all, Mr. Allen, I do have other work I need to get to, as do you. I’ll… try to pull together some sort of summary of what you might – or might not have? – missed.”

Barry thanked him and turned to leave. David tapped his fingers restlessly, feeling conflicted about whether or not to ask his next question, or if he was happier not knowing.

“The other Barry – the Barry from my timeline – what happened to him? When you time-traveled?” he finally blurted.

Barry froze, one hand on the doorknob, and turned his head to look back at him. His stricken expression was all the answer David needed, and he waved Barry out the door before he could open his mouth.

Something in his chest felt tight with an emotion that felt a lot like grief, for what was lost. He doggedly reminded himself that if they could reach that level of trust once before, they could reach it again. Over and over he repeated it, like a mantra.

_They could be friends again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This reveal did not go at all like I expected when I started writing ;P
> 
> Singh was being much too careful with his words to just ask leading questions, which could potentially tip an imposter off. (I could totally see Singh doing undercover work back in the day - he seems like he'd have been good at it)


End file.
